


Honour Among Hotdogs (or How Irvine Ended Up Getting His Ass Whipped By Zell in a Hotdog Eating Championship)

by Zerrat



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Community: ff_land, Competition, F/M, Flirting, Friendship, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Platonic Female/Male Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-01
Updated: 2011-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 10:26:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zerrat/pseuds/Zerrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zell is ecstatic about the Garden Festival’s newest event – none other than a hotdog eating competition. Training begins, but when Irvine can’t keep his mouth shut, things go south.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honour Among Hotdogs (or How Irvine Ended Up Getting His Ass Whipped By Zell in a Hotdog Eating Championship)

When Selphie first brings up the possibility of an inter-Garden Hotdog Eating Championship, Zell is ecstatic. The rest of Garden seems rather ambivalent to the activity, but he supposes that’s because the next Garden Festival is still a ways off. More challengers, and more opportunities to scoff himself with his favourite food? Who wouldn’t love that?

Zell doesn’t stop nagging Selphie about the half-hearted suggestion for the rest of the week, until his enthusiasm seems to rub off and he gets a “Booyaka!”

It’s all he needs to hear.

With the event advanced to full-planning stage (all it needs to do is pass Squall’s desk and they’ll be set, and Zell knows he’s got Rinoa on board to help with that), Zell begins his training. He knows that he’s the undisputed champion of hotdog-eating in Balamb Garden, but Hyne only knew what else lay out there! Zell has to be prepared for any outcome. He’s a SeeD, after all.

That’s how he finds himself in the Balamb cafeteria, his table stacked high with hotdogs, feeling sick as he crams another into his mouth and tries to wash it down, whole, with a gulp of chocolate milkshake. Chewing is for second-place. Zell’s going to _own_ this thing.

Selphie is sitting next to him, cheering him on and reminding him not to choke. Selphie, as one of the judges, really shouldn’t be showing favouritism, Zell knows. But he can’t bring himself to complain as she passes him another milkshake. At her shoulder, Irvine lurks like a bad smell.

Zell shoots him a glance out of the corner of his eye, his mouth already packed with food again. Irvine, usually nice enough, has been nothing but an ass since training started.

One more comment about hotdogs, and one more inference about Zell’s sexuality, and Zell is going to lose his shit.

The moment of inattention, spent dwelling on the idiot cowboy, is all it takes. His eleventh hotdog halfway down his throat, Zell loses focus and begins to gag. He can feel tears start in his eyes, feels his stomach heave in panic and suddenly Zell is dragged from his chair. Irvine performs some sort of manoeuvre, one that the SeeD cadets are shown in a class for basic first aid, and the offending meat and bread is coughed up and onto the floor.

Zell stares at it for a moment, before heavily sinking down into his seat. He silently grabs his next milkshake from Selphie’s outstretched hand, his face still flushed in embarrassment. It wouldn’t have happened, if Irvine hadn’t been there. Or if Irvine hadn’t been such a jerkwad. Either way, this is seriously Irvine’s fault and Zell is resisting the urge to simply slog the man.

 _“Chew,_ Zell!” Selphie says to him, as she squeezes his shoulder. “The _idea_ is to break it down in your mouth, so that it takes up less room in your stomach!”

Selphie’s been a great help, really. Zell knows that maybe he should listen to her, because if he starts to choke during the competition, that’d be the end of his aspirations-

“Zell? Choking on a sausage-shaped piece of meat? My, my. With how few dates you go on? I ain’t surprised.”

Zell wishes he could kill Irvine with the glare he sends, but the man just laughs. Zell is inches from a meltdown, now. Since Selphie’s here and looking pleadingly at him, with an effort, Zell keeps his cool and just grunts out around his next mouthful,

“Screw you, Kinneas.”

“Prefer that you didn’t.”

Zell sees red. This was going to be the _last_ time Irvine makes that old joke. It is on.

“You. Me. Inter-Garden Hotdog Eating Competition. Or are you too much of a chickenwuss?” Zell grinds out around his mouthful. Crumbs are spraying over the tabletop, but he doesn’t care.

“Sorry, Zell. It’s very flattering, but I prefer the ladies.” Irvine waggles his brows at Selphie in what Zell assumes is meant to be a flirtatious fashion, but Hyne-damnit he is _not_ off the hook. Zell had thought that this had been over when Seifer left Garden. The hell he was going to put up with more! Zell surges to his feet, hastily swallowing the last bite of his hotdog as he takes hold of the front of Irvine’s clothing.

“I didn’t think I was _asking.”_

“Zell!” Selphie is between them, her fingers prying Zell’s from the front of Irvine’s trenchcoat even as she turns to Irvine. With her other hand, she swats the cowboy on the shoulder, the picture of disappointment. “And you! Irvine! You know better than to provoke Zell!”

As Irvine flashes Selphie another unsubtle smile, Zell realizes what it’s all been about. From the slight smirk on her face, seems that Selphie has, too.

If there’s one thing that Zell’s learned, since he met the girl during the SeeD Field Exam? It’s that you don’t cross Selphie. For _any_ reason, let alone one as stupid as this one.

“You know, I like guys who are… secure in their masculinity, Irvine.”

Selphie winks at the man, and Zell can’t help but grin. From the look on Irvine’s face, he knows it’s a trap. He knows that Selphie isn’t serious, but between Zell’s figurative gauntlet thrown down and Selphie’s mockery… Irvine throws his hands up into the air dramatically.

“Fine, you win, Zell. Garden Festival, hotdogs.” Irvine makes a pained expression. “That sounds a lot less impressive than duelling guns at dawn.”

Irvine has a point, but Zell isn’t backing down from his challenge, and pumps a fist in his new burst of enthusiasm. “Better get practicing, _Irvy._ You’re goin’ down, cowboy!”

Later, after the training is done and all the students have deserted the cafeteria, Zell quietly thanks Selphie for her help in dealing with her would-be-boyfriend. She just flashes him a smile, gives him a hug, and says she believes that he’ll make his point clear. She’s a good friend. Maybe one of the best.

Zell watches her go, knowing that for her sake, he’ll have this competition in the bag.

When the Garden Festival finally rolls around, it goes without saying that Irvine loses their stupid ‘duel’. Spectacularly. It also goes without saying that Zell takes this year’s championship, and from where he stands triumphantly up on the podium, he can see Selphie giving the defeated Irvine a hug. Later, Irvine would apologize for angering Zell so badly, but for now? Basking in his hard-won victory was enough.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Honour Among Hotdogs (or How Irvine Ended Up Getting His Ass Whipped By Zell in a Hotdog Eating Championship) [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3801139) by [tinypinkmouse_podfic (tinypinkmouse)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinypinkmouse/pseuds/tinypinkmouse_podfic)




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